


come runnin' just as fast as you can

by ohmyloki



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Eames swears he's actually really smart okay, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyloki/pseuds/ohmyloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames’ first thought as they both steadied themselves from the collision was, ‘He’s quite possibly the most well-dressed rent boy I’ve ever seen.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpanglesandSass (Fidella)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fidella/gifts).



> Hello, yes. This is my first Inception fic. Arthur/Eames has consumed me. Unbeta'd.

While Eames was no stranger to running for his life from a group of trained mercenaries, it had been quite some time since it had happened on the streets of his birthplace. _Home sweet home_ , Eames thought with a smile as he ducked into another alley. Unfortunately, even with home field advantage, he seemed to be unable to shake his pursuers.

Some quick thinking with a fire escape and a few more twists and turns later, Eames had a decent lead on the men chasing him, but he knew better than to let it lull him into a false sense of security. His feet pounded on the pavement harshly in the otherwise near silence of the night, his mind running through possible evasion tactics and possible hiding spots in the area. It was at that moment that he turned down another street only to quite literally run into a young man standing next to the street sign. He looked perfectly at home standing on the street corner, like he belonged there.

Eames’ first thought as they both steadied themselves from the collision was, ‘ _He’s quite possibly the most well-dressed rent boy I’ve ever seen,’_ because, really, there weren’t many other reasons to be standing on a street corner in the middle of the night.

His second thought was, ‘ _Perfect.’_

“Kiss me,” Eames blurted out.

The young man gave him a look that could only be described as, ‘ _what the fuck.’_

Eames shrugged out of his jacket, figuring if he chucked it and could manage to get the twinky yet oddly fashionable rent boy pressed up against the wall, his would-be killers might just run right by them. Admittedly, not a great plan, but he couldn’t very well spend the rest of the night running. Cardio exercise had never been his forte.

The young man’s eyes widen as he watched Eames, for lack of a better term, strip. With the easily-identifiable jacket properly binned, Eames turned back with his most pleading face.

“Please, you need to kiss me right now,” Eames said, still panting a little.

He got no response, save for a small eyebrow twitch.

“Look,” Eames said. “This is life or death. I promise you I have money. I just need to--”

“Kiss me.” The man finished for him with an American lilt.

“Yes.” Eames said. “How much do you want? Fifty? A hundred?”

The man tilted his head, appraising Eames.

“Five hundred,” he said with a tone that gave no room for negotiations.

“What?” Eames said, letting shock and outrage overrule the urgency of his predicament. “Five hundred for a _kiss?_ ”

“Supply and demand,” he said, smirking.

Eames goggled at him before a distant shout startled him into a decision.

“Fine. Five hundred. Now can we just--”

A quick movement silenced him, the rough brick wall against his back a sudden surprise. Then again, so was the man who had maneuvered him there and was now thoroughly plundering Eames’ mouth with his tongue. Eames himself was stunned into paralysis for a split second, but as the man’s teeth nipped lightly at his bottom lip, he found himself responding in earnest. His hands slid slowly under the stranger’s jacket, feeling the lithe but muscular form hidden beneath. Eames sighed and allowed himself this small, tiny bit of pleasure after a very rough evening.

He had to swallow back a groan when he felt a knee slide between his thighs and a hand thread through the short hairs on the back of his head. After that, Eames lost himself in the kiss, letting the man he’d known for under a minute take him apart with finesse. He’d never admit it but, he thought, maybe five hundred wasn’t so steep after all. The man certainly knew what he was doing and Eames couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed so thoroughly.

They snogged like a couple of schoolboys, Eames on the verge of humping the stranger’s leg, for a few minutes longer. A small sound of displeasure erupted from him unwillingly when the man broke the kiss, leaning back to look down the street.

“They’re gone,” he said, stepping back from Eames.

“What?” Eames asked.

“They went right by us.” He seemed to speak to himself, a note of intrigue in his voice. He turned back to face Eames, who was still slumped against the wall.

“What?” Eames asked.

“The men chasing you,” he said slowly, as if Eames was dimwitted. “They ran right by us.”

“Oh,” Eames said, intelligently. He hadn’t even heard them go by.

The man looked down at his rumped clothing, smoothing out the wrinkles caused by the death grip Eames had on him not even a minute earlier. Eames cleared his throat and straightened up, trying to sort himself out. He tried to convince himself it was surprise at being manhandled that had him a little out of sorts, and not the fact that he felt like he had been kissed senseless. It was relatively unsuccessful.

“Right,” Eames said. He fished his wallet out of his pocket and counted out the five hundred. The man accepted it with a smirk, not bothering to count before tucking it away inside his jacket.

“Out of curiosity,” Eames said, “how much would five hundred get me normally? Without taxing me for my desperation.”

The man shrugged.

“You’d have to ask someone who knows,” he said.

“What?”

The man tilted his head, looking at Eames with no small amount of judgement.

“Your reputation led me to believe you were a clever man, Mr. Eames,” he said, doubtfully.

Eames barely bit back yet another ‘ _what?_ ’ but by the look on the man’s face, he had heard it all the same.

“When was the last time you saw a street corner prostitute dressed in a three-piece suit?”

“Well,” Eames said, and then paused. “You may have a point there.”

“Arthur,” Arthur said, sticking out his hand.

Eames eyed it for a second before reaching out and shaking it firmly, enjoying the way Arthur’s smaller, slender hand fit in his. Involuntarily, he licked his lips as he took his hand back. Arthur’s eyes flicked down to watch the movement, a small pause that would have gone unnoticed had Eames not been looking for it. Arthur cleared his throat.

“I’m here to offer you a job,” Arthur said.

The name clicked finally clicked into place. He had heard of Arthur, of course. Dreamsharing was still a small pool and Arthur had made waves with his entrance. What a shame, Eames thought, that no one had bothered to mention how handsome he was.

“Our flight leaves in three hours, Mr. Eames. My car is just around the corner,” Arthur started to turn away, but stopped when Eames spoke.

“What makes you think I’m taking the job?” He asked.

Arthur’s eyebrow went up, as if the answer was obvious.

“You owe me,” he said.

“Owe you?” Eames asked, heated. “I just paid you!”

“I’ve been reliably informed that I’m worth more than that, Mr. Eames,” Arthur said matter-of-factly. “Now, let’s leave before they circle back and we have to take more drastic measures.”

Arthur started walking while Eames briefly contemplated what exactly the drastic measures would consist of. He blamed the tight fit of Arthur’s trousers for a thought striking him far later than it should have.

“Wait,” Eames said. “How did you know where to find me?”

Arthur stopped and inhaled deeply, looking down the street with a content smile on his face. The look of a man satisfied with himself.

“It’s always nice when a conflict resolves itself without violence up here,” Arthur said, pleased. “Don’t you think so?”

“Wha--” Eames’ mouth snapped shut.

The con-man had just been conned, Eames realized. Heat flushed through him, equal parts ire and lust. And with that heady combination filling his head, how could he not follow Arthur to his car? Eames eyed the back of his well-fitted suit again with a smile. It was a nice night for a drive, after all, and the view was stunning.

* * *

 

It took a few years, but eventually Eames did find out how much Arthur was worth. And, as it turned out, he had no problem giving over every last bit of himself in order to get it.


	2. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So... how did you two meet?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little comment fic I wrote after posting the last chapter. :)

"He thought I was a hooker and tried to buy my services," Arthur said flatly.

"What--no," Eames sputtered. "That's not how it happened at  _all_."

"Did you think I was a hooker?" Arthur asked. He gave Eames a knowing look.

"Well... yes." He can't deny that.

"Did you try to offer me money in exchange for sexual favors?" Arthur asked.

"A kiss is not a sexual favor, darling." Eames said, the very idea absolutely ridiculous. "And it was  _one_ , not plural."

"Did you or did you not try to offer me money in exchange for a sexual favor?" Arthur stared at him with a lifted brow.

Eames remained silent for as long as he could.

"...fine. Yes," he said.

"There," Arthur said, turning back to Ariadne. "You see--"

"But  _you_  accepted it, Arthur," Eames interrupted. "Don't forget that you accepted my money in exchange for... a sexual favor. Does that not make you a prostitute by very definition of the word?"

Arthur pursed his lips. After a moment of silence, Eames grinned.

"Ha!" Eames exclaimed gleefully.

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to spanglesandsass for talking me through this silly thing and for being the best cheerleader a girl could ask for!


End file.
